#gonna need a break from that pattern ;;;

[the-shy-artisan]

One baby Beastos is complete and ready to fly home! ♥

This little guy belongs to @tranzdragonz, thank you so much for being the first person to adopt a Beastos! ;u;

The other three are slowly getting there and will be available to adopt in the near future c: (probably won't make these guys in batches after this, starting to get burnt out tbh ;;). The prototype has already been claimed by my sibling lol (they usually end up adopting most of my plushies in the end lmao).

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

friendly reminder that self harm is lying to you

[barkingangelbaby]

I feel like such a broken fucking person lol

I talked way too much in the tags don't read them

[trannakinskywalker]

.

[death-breeds-wisdom]

I don't get what I did wrong. I'm trying not to be a bitch. But like. What'd I do wrong? It was just banter? Do I talk to them about it? What the fuck do I do.

[sp0o0kylights]

“Dustin isn’t coming.”

“What?” Eddie says, all frantic and jovial movements freezing instantly.

His eyes narrow on Lucas--the bearer of bad news. “Why?” 

“Family emergency.” 

Mike makes a face. “I saw his mom yesterday and she was fine, so is this a…?” 

He makes a gesture that is entirely incomprehensible to anyone who isn’t Sinclair and his terrifying girlfriend.

(At least, Eddie thinks Max is Lucas’s girlfriend this week. It got a little hard to keep up after the third break-up-make-up marathon, and he frankly, stopped bothering to try.

It helped that she barely spoke--The only time notable being when Eddie had mockingly asked Sinclair if he needed a cheerleader when she’d first sat in, upon which she’d asked Eddie if he needed new kneecaps with a look in her eye that said she was serious.)

Wheeler Jr.’s gesture however, made her put her book down.

“You think he’s having migraines again?” She not so much asked as demanded, which had Mike shrugging. 

“Dunno." Lucas says. "Dustin didn’t say.” 

“Gotta be, if he called Dustin.” Mike mutters, Lucas shuffling his papers about as he begins to set up for Hellfire. He was the last in the room, practically late, which Eddie had planned on harassing him for had he not announced Henderson’s absence. 

(Fucking freshmen. They just weren’t terrified of Eddie like they used to be.) 

 “Robin must be sick or something, otherwise he’d call her.”  Lucas finishes as he finally sits down. 

“Didn’t the Marching Band go on some trip?” Mike turns to address the rest of the table, and gets nods from Jeff and Gareth both. 

“Yeah they’re marching in some parade in Indianapolis.” Jeff confirms. 

“So his last resort was Dustin?” Max is getting that tone in her voice, the one that makes everyone at Hellfire very uncomfortable. “Typical.” 

She pushes away from the table, making a show of gathering up her things before rising easily to her feet.

Eddie trades looks with the elder Hellfire members as she makes her exit--the kind that says they’re all going to be talking about this later. 

They knew their freshmen had some weird obsession with the former King, of course, but Mayfield too?

What the hell was up with that guy?

At least Eddie thinks, right before things are once again shot to shit, they can go back to playing the game.

He can make it work this early into things, and if Henderson isn't’ a fan of what he’s about to do to the kid’s character in his absence, well. 

Maybe he shouldn’t be fucking absent then. 

“So what, Max, you're gonna go over there and make it worse?” Mike snorts. 

Fatal mistake.

Eddie almost strangles him for it, if only because it prolongs this entire unnecessary conversation. 

Max performs a military perfect heel turn, coming straight back for Wheeler Jr., which makes him right about fall out of his seat in panic. 

“What was that, Wheeler?” 

“I’m just saying--!” 

“We don’t know Steve’s having migraines.” Lucas reiterates, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Maybe it’s something else.” 

“Does Steve get migraines a lot?” Grant asks, because despite all appearances he’s a terrible gossip and gets sucked in far too easily.

Eddie throws a pencil at him for it. 

“Hel-looo, we have a game!?” He thunders, but unfortunately for him, precious Stevie-Weavies headache now has everyone’s attention. 

“Yeah, though he’s really good at pretending he doesn’t.” Lucas answers with a put upon sigh. 

“There’s a whole pattern--he ignores it until it gets super bad, then he has to call Robin or Dustin to come get him when he inevitably gets stranded at work or the like, grocery store.” 

“Well who else do you think he’d call?” Mike scoffs again. He does a lot of that, when discussing Harrington. “It’s not like his parents are--Ow, Max!” 

“Close your mouth before I close it for you.” She hisses and Mike, shockingly, does just that. 

To Eddie, she says; 

“Your ass isn’t any better, or did you forget I live across from you?” 

Eddie--who had an insult primed and ready--promptly shuts his mouth.

(Fucking! Asshole! Freshmen!) 

“Maybe I should go too.” Lucas says, hedging a look between his girlfriend and his DM. 

“No.” She snaps, pointing a finger at him.

 “If you go, then this idiot,” she flicks her finger to  Mike, “will go and then we really will make it worse. Stay here before your bichon frise has a fit about all his sheep abandoning him.”

Then she’s turning on her heel again, storming out. 

“What the hell’s a bichon frisé?” Gareth asks in the aftermath, frowning. 

“It’s a type of ahhhh--” Jeff clearly thinks better of the explanation, eyes sliding to Eddie.

Who’s scowling.

“I know what a bichon frisé is, Jeff.” He snaps. 

“I don’t.” Grant loudly complains. 

Jeff attempts to both calm Eddie and explain while Mike and Lucas spend far too many minutes looking after Max. 

“Enough!” Eddie howls, temper finally getting the best of him. “Are we playing or do you also need to go sit by the King’s bedside?”  

“Thank you,” Mike says, like he wasn’t a third of the entire problem. “Let’s play!”

They make it about ten entire minutes before getting knocked off track again. 

In fairness, not that Eddie would ever admit it--the second meltdown is his own fault.

xXx

Hellfire is Eddie’s domain. 

It’s one of the few places where he could relax without getting harassed or hounded, and having his freshmen--his!--abandon him for King Fucking Steve had set him off. 

So he’d made a few comments about it.

Maybe introduced an NPC who sounded suspiciously similar to Harrington, only to instantly kill him off. 

Made another couple of nasty comments. 

Who cares? It worked him through his snit rather nicely, and his boys all knew to leave him be.

Except, apparently, for Lucas. 

“Dude, would you lay off?”  The kid finally snaps, pencil slamming down on the table. 

Which is the most backbone-like thing anyone has ever heard Sinclair say, and he gets far more whistles for it than he should.

Eddie pins him in place with a glare. 

“What was that Sinclair?” He snarls, voice as menacing as he can make it.

(It’s pretty terrifying, he’s practiced quite a bit with it.) 

Sinclair flinches, but doesn’t back down. 

“I said lay off. Steve has migraines because of--” He stops, before seeming to come to a decision. “Because of me. He took a hit for me, and I owe him a life debt for it.” 

To Eddie, he says; “You get what those are, right?” 

Mike rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t just for you--”

“That time with Billy was!” Lucas is quick to snarl. “But you know what Mike, you’re right. It wasn’t just for me. He T-boned a car for all of us!” 

Sinclaire is on his feet now, which is the unfortunate moment that Eddie realizes he has once again lost control of the room. 

A situation he firmly blames on Steve Harrington, because he’s petty. 

“Or did you forget that part? That’s you, me, Will, Nancy and Jonathan right there! Nevermind the tunnel. Or the junkyard! 

“We had the junkyard handled--”

Lucas scoffs. 

“We absolutely did not.” 

“I don’t get why you’re all making such a big deal out of this. He’s the fighter. That’s what he does. That’s why we brought him to the tunnel.”

“You recall what happened at Starcourt, right?” Lucas challenges, furious. “You did see him after, right?” 

This, finally, seems to shut Mike up. 

“Shouldn’t you be mad at him for that?” He says after a moment, and the rest of Hellfire has completely put aside all actual gaming to watch this play out with a morbid sort of fascination. 

Eddie allows it, only because he’s trying to breathe the way Wayne taught him to before he loses it entirely and throws both of the idiot kids out of the drama room. 

“He pulled your sister into it.”

“Have you met Erica!? You can’t pull her into shit!” Lucas spits furiously. “That wasn’t D&D, Mike. It was the Upsi--real life.” 

Lucas is quick to correct himself, even in the heat of the moment--as all the kids are, like the entire school hasn’t clocked that they have some weird ass secret they’re terrible at hiding.

“And if we’re playing those games, then who pulled him into the tunnels? Who made him come to the junkyard?”

“Dustin.” Mike says snidely. 

“You don’t get to blame Dustin when Steve was the only person around.” 

“There were people around! They just weren’t people who--weren’t--who couldn’t--”

“Finish that sentence.” Lucas demands 

“Be trusted.” Mike spits out, like it hurts him. 

“Exactly.” 

“El went through way more than Steve ever has! El--”

“El was using her po--doing mage things! And also, she shouldn’t have had to go through all this shit either! We can’t rely on her to save the day every single time, Mike--and look at how hurt she gets!”

“She--”

“She hides it from you, you know. How bad she hurts. Cause she wants to put your feelings first.” 

“I--”

“Will does too.”  Is Lucas’s parting shot. His backpack is in his hands in a blink, papers and character figure shoved wildly into it, before he’s storming out the door in a poor mimicry of Mayfield.

“Harrington T-Boned a car?” Grant says, in the resounding silence. 

“That BMW of his hasn’t had a scratch on it--” Jeff says, with an inquisitive tilt to his head. 

“He didn’t use the Beamer.” Mike interrupts, angry and sulking. “Are we playing or not?”

“I’m gonna say not, given we are down two players.’ Eddie tells him through clenched teeth. 

“I’m going to be so mad if Steve doesn’t have a migraine.” Mike grumbles, as he begins packing up his stuff. 

The rest of Hellfire follow his lead, after one look at Eddie’s face convince the lot of them that it’s best to flee now, before Eddie unleashes all his pent up rage. 

“Not as mad as I’ll be, Wheeler.” Eddie promises darkly.

And it is a promise--because now, he’s going to follow all his stupid (sans Mike, who isn’t in his good graces either but at least stayed) freshmen--and go visit one fallen King.

If Harrington doesn’t have a headache now, he will when Eddie’s done with him.

[areyoudoingthis]

i love talking to my friends who also have shitty parents cause they immediately understand the situation without me needing to explain and it's like "one of those conversations?" "yeah"

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — KATSUKI BAKUGOU. compression shirts & sweatpants.

about. hello u guys wanted me to finish this so i did lol !!!! i just can’t get the idea of him in compression shirts out of my mind ok enjoy !! <3

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact. suggestive, making out, hickies, dry humping, bakugou being a huge tease, gn!reader, pro hero!bakugou.

“do you get off on this? dressing like a slut?”

after pushing his bread down into the toaster, bakugou stops mid-sip, his signature red riot coffee mug about a quarter of an inch away from the pink and plush curve of his lips. he looks over to you as if he’s an animal that’s been caught doing something it’s not supposed to. a deer in headlights if you will.

“hah?”

you clench your fists, the foulest pout you can muster spread thinly over your features like a veil, as a petulant huff escapes you. you pretend to be mad at the man for as long as you can, turning your head away from him with your arms crossed over your chest. but you can’t help it. you can’t fight it… your gaze trailing back over to him at a snail’s pace.

katsuki bakugou looks like a fucking god.

not only does the stupid black compression shirt he’s wearing highlight the slender accent of his hips and itty bitty waist — but it clings to every muscle in bakugou’s marble-carved body. you can see every bulge of his biceps and ripple in his backs, even down to his washboard abs. honestly, you count your lucky stars every day that you managed to sink your fangs into the blonde before anyone else did, claiming him as your own. you might have even thrown up if anyone got to see him lounging about the place in grey sweats the way you did, the material just barely sitting on his hips.

you have to swipe at your mouth to stop yourself from drooling when he puts his mug down and lifts an arm up high to put the coffee granules back in the cupboard — his shirt riding up just enough for you to get a good look at a slither if his his sun-kissed, diamond cut v-line and waistband of his boxers too. it’s like the guy is purposefully trying to kill you.

just the very sight of katsuki like this, probably fresh from his work out, has you in a shambles — breaking out into hot sweats, panting like a dog. someone might even think you’re sick.

katsuki pays your little tantrum no mind, crossing his arms and leaning his hip against the kitchen counter while he waits for you to finish.

“you look so good.” you relent eventually, shoulders sagging.

shaking his head in a fond manner, the blonde rolls his ruby framed eyes. “no, you look good.” katsuki coos amusedly, arms opening wide for you as you pad further into the kitchen to snuggle against his chest. although he’s taunting you and you’re playing right into his game, you will always love that katsuki finds little ways to compliment you and make you feel adored — you feel it as he presses the wisps of a kiss into the crown of your head. “you always do.”

“it’s not fair that you get to go around like this! wearing that and making me feel all—!” you wave your hands about eccentrically, a heated frustration burning at your nerve endings as you screech your feelings out.

bakugou smiles to himself, sexy and slow, barely jumping when his toast pops out of the toaster. he grabs it, holds the corner of his food between his rows of pearly white teeth and spins your positions so that he traps you against the kitchen counter. “gonna need some context, babe.” you think that he’s going to touch you but instead reaches behind you to grab at his coffee.

freaking tease.

it’s impossible to think clearly when your boyfriend is this close — his intoxicating musky scent of sweet sweat and cool toned aftershave making you dizzy. “i hate you.” you state indignantly, flopping against his chest and letting it’s plushness muffle your speech patterns. “you’re stupid hot. and a slut.”

“you slut shamin’ me, sweetness?”

“s’what you deserve. dressin’ like you don’t belong to nobody. like you belong to the streets.”

“i belong to you, baby. you know that.” chucking his toast onto the counter, the blonde swoops down to kiss you hungrily — tasting of freshly brewed coffee grounds and salt. of course he would get off to something like this. he’s got you right where he wants you, weak in the knees and melting in his arms.

you screw your eyes shut, squirming in place as bakugou steps back and guides your hand under his tight fitting compression shirt, overloading your brain with just how built he is. fleshy pecks and golden abs. he ends up keeping it rolled up so you feel hot all over. “i can get undressed if it makes ya feel better.”

you can’t help that your eyes drop back down to his cotton grey sweats — they’ve slipped a little lower, low enough for his sharp v-line and soft blonde curls from his happy trail to peek out from the waistband. if you squinted (not that you would need to) you could make out the outline of his semi as it brushes against your inner thighs.

this is it. this is the end. “it makes me feel worse actually. like i might die of thirst or something. especially if you don’t—“

“if i don’, what?” his hands are all over you now, splayed over your tummy, digging into your waist — he overwhelms you. pressing his body against yours until you practically feel him through your pores. bakugou is hot (physically, sure) but against you, your desire for him spreads like a heatwave through every inch of your body — from the tips of your fingers and toes to the top of your head.

“kiss me.” you breathe, a neediness seeded into your tone.

bakugou arches a blonde eyebrow, looking down at you cockily. “c’mere then, brat.”

he uses a finger and thumb to tilt your chin up towards him, leaning down to kiss you before tricking you with a fake out. just as you begin to whinge and complain, the blonde squishes your cheeks so you can’t wriggle away from him and licks into your mouth with a teasing laugh. he only kisses you fully when you grasp at his slender waist, feel him up from under his clothes and slip your hands over his ass — just bellow the waistband of his sweats.

“fuckin’ tease,” katsuki grunts, tugging on your lower lip with his teeth and sucking in your tongue.

a free hand wanders from his bottom, climbs up the rippling muscles of his back and tangles in bakugou’s sandy roots — fisting then as you drag him closer, working your tongue into his hot and welcoming mouth. “takes one to know one, kats,” you mewl into him, letting him swallow your satisfied gasps and squeaks.

every action, every groan and grope becomes rougher, needier, hornier — squeezing each other turns to grinding on one another until there’s no room for either of you to breathe and just as you move to shove your hand down the front of his boxers, everything comes to a halt.

you knock bakugou’s coffee over when he lifts you onto the counter.

“ow! hot!” you squeal, still tilting your head back to make room for the blonde at your neck.

he doesn’t stop, nipping at your skin. “yeah, so you’ve said babe.”

“not you, dummy!” swatting at your boyfriend, you push him off. “the fucking coffee on my ass!”

katsuki blinks, his lashes fluttering against the column of your throat while be peeks over your shoulder at the beverage spilling across the counter and seeping into your clothes.

“that’s what you get for callin’ me a slut.”

“oh…oh fuck you.”

“‘m trying babe.”

“fuck you. slut.”

“keep degrading me sweetness, ‘m kinda into that.”

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[sageispunk]

anointed (18+)

pairing: Terry Richmond x black!reader

wordcount: 900+ (just a lil drabble)

warnings: this is just smut rlly, pre-established relationship, oral sex--kinda (f receiving), lots and lots of teasing, this pic because like.....

thinking about…

Terry using his big hands to pull you up onto his face, not even caring that your black lace panties were still on. He inhales, eyes fluttering closed as he takes in your scent. A mix of vanilla oil and your natural musky scent sends a shiver down his spine. A growl of approval. His eyes stare up into yours, watching you pant, growing needier by the second. Skilled thumbs pressing into the sensitive flesh right above your hips, drawing circles to get you all riled up. 

He tugs you down until your clothed cunt kisses his soft, pink lips. You whimper, barely able to take the stimulation of his warm breath against your core, never mind his touch. As if he could read your mind, Terry puckers his lips and leaves a firm kiss, right above your clit. Your body jolts up, subconsciously wanting a break from the stimulation. Terry smirks, strong hands keeping you planted still above him. 

He leaves more kisses, slow, soft, passionate kisses. Like he was making love to another you down there. It had you hot. Especially with those sounds he was making, smacking and groaning against your panties, like a hungry animal getting its first meal in a week. He was savoring you. Savoring your taste. 

You whine and watch, stuck in a limbo of wanting more but needing a rest. Your hips didn’t know if they wanted to go up or down, instead settling for a lazy circle above his face. “Terry…p-please…” 

His precious eyes meet yours, a reflection of the most beautiful storm-filled skies. With a final kiss on the fabric, he sets you down to rest on his upper chest. Your right hand flies to his cheek, caressing the smooth skin there. Your eyes are full of awe, mixed in with a few handfuls of lust, matching his. “Please what?”

You know he’s serious when his eyebrows raise up at you, expecting a full, verbal response. You pout, wanting him to just give you what you need, because you know he knows. Terry knows that you just want his tongue buried in your sopping pussy, or his lips wrapped around your throbbing clit, pulling every drop of juice from your body– and because he knows, he’s not gonna give it to you until you’re begging for it.

You whine, not wanting to give into what he wants so easily, although your hips did not falter in their movements. Tracing a lascivious circle with your eyes low and bottom lip puckered out. He realizes that you don’t plan on speaking up, and opts instead for another route. 

In a second, you are back above his face, this time though he pulls you down into him. His nose and lips are buried in the soaked black lace protecting your pussy, nearly inhaling you through the material. You watch, mouth wide open as he eats you with your panties on.  

Terry’s big warm tongue flicks back and forth on the fabric,  mimicking the same exact patterns he would use on you any other time. The sensation is new to you, feeling like relief and torture at the same time. Your eyes squint down at him, eyebrows bunched up, wondering why the hell he was doing this to you, why he couldn’t just let you have what you wanted–what you needed. 

“Terryyy, fuck!! I’m– pleaseee..” 

He groans in response, eyes closed, a rough grumble vibrating through his chest and straight into your pussy. His calloused fingers tightly grasp your waist, keeping you firmly planted and allowing you absolutely no room to run from his teasing. 

Your cries and pleas went ignored, as Terry was much more focused on sucking every drop of moisture from your panties. You fall forward, hands and forehead resting against the cushioned headboard. “Terry, pleaseeee, I need you..” More kisses, wet and suctioned, you could hear them even through all your whining, and it doubled your neediness. 

“Just take them offff!!” 

Terry smiles against your warmth, more than happy to hear your needy voice finally cry out those words. He knew you would, sooner or later, and he didn’t mind waiting and putting his own relief on the back burner in order to get you there. 

With a firm slap to your ass, he lifts you off, quickly coming up and behind you. He pushes you down, hands on your waist while his thumbs press into that dimpled arch in your back. Terry spreads you apart, biting his lip as he sees how drenched and sticky your panties have become. He bends down, hands sliding back to your ass cheeks, massaging and spreading them, watching the way your pussy lips threaten to eat up the fabric. 

“This shit is so fuckin’ sexy, baby, what the fuck?” He groans out, dick twitching and surely creating a wet spot in his grey briefs. It strains against the cotton as hips grind up into the air.

You push your own hips back, far past tired of his teasing. “Daddy, pleaseee, stop playin–” Your whines are cut off, choked back into your throat as he rips the lace apart, exposing your molten core to the seemingly chilled air. Your essence drips down, slicking your inner thighs– the view reminded Terry of a fresh, warm, homemade honey bun, right out the oven. And there was nothing he was more hungry for at this very moment. 

i do not give permission for anyone to copy, translate, or repost any of my works. 18+ ONLY -- i am not responsible for the content you consume.

[what-even-is-thiss]

Brian David Gilbert accidentally reinventing ska aside, I do wonder why there was barely any new music written after the 1960s in the fallout universe. To the point where people in the wasteland aren’t just listening to 200 year old music but 300 year old music. During fallout 4 if you’re listening to diamond city radio when the one original song comes on Travis freaks out because he’s not used to playing tracks by people that are still alive.

If I’m gonna come up with an in-universe explanation I might guess that it’s an extreme example of what might happen if a nation devalues art to the point that cultural stagnation occurs.

Creativity is so discouraged in favor of science, warfare, engineering, and mathematics that nothing new gets produced. Old patterns for clothes are used for over 100 years, hairstyle books and learning materials are never updated, almost no new music is written. Deviating even slightly from American exceptionalism and style is heresy. New ideas outside of the sciences are stupid and to be mocked. What few artists remain just learn how to recreate what’s already been done.

I mean a vault full of musicians wasn’t even a control vault. There was no real effort to preserve musical knowledge. They were subjects in a mind control experiment.

And this attitude gets carried into the big afterwards. After the Great War all that several generations have ever known is the devaluing of creativity and new ideas. And everyone is too tired and focused on survival to try anything new.

So Magnolia writing new music? That’s weird. That’s really weird. It’s been weird for over 300 years at that point.

And if I’m remembering correctly, the only people you meet in the games writing poetry are writing really bad poetry. But in this sort of context, that makes sense. There’s this idea in writing circles that when you take a long break from writing you need to allow yourself some time to write very badly in order to clean the garbage out of your brain and get your creativity muscles exercised again.

The fallout universe is experiencing this on a global massive societal scale. Jerry the Punk writing bad poetry comparing a girl to a deathclaw and Beatrice writing a bad poem about being stuck underground is a sign of slow but steady healing. The fallout world is getting a lot of garbage out of its system from over 300 years of cultural stagnation and learning how to make stuff again.

[htchnr]

♰ silver soul ༻ L. HOWLETT.*ೃ˚

✮ꜜ masterlist. ✮ꜜ buy me a ko-fi!

content warning hurt/comfort ⋆ vague mention of a crappy work place ⋆ a thousand pet names ⋆ unmentioned age gap ⋆ non sexual vaguely mentioned nudity ⋆ not proofread, i just wanted to get it written and out ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

pairing old man!Logan.

summary all you need after an awful week is to lay in Logan's arms. tightly wrapped around you to let you heal a little before the next day starts again. + or, i desperately need Logan to hold me and tell me everything's gonna be okay. wordcount 0.9k.

authors note i've seen you guys' requests, don't worry! give me some time to get them out cause i'm kinda in sucky mental place (lol, hence all these various comfort fics lately) and my writing is getting slow :,) bare with me lovelies, i'll get them out i promise <3

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

the cabin is quiet when you push through the front door, the sun having long since set. you drop your keys in the hand-carved wooden bowl, kicking your shoes off along with shrugging your coat off. you know Logan can hear it's you by your familiar movements you make each night when you come home from work late.

you let out a deep sigh, knowing Logan must already be in bed if he wasn't there to greet you. you sluggishly make your way towards the bedroom, a tired and pained smile on your lips. " hey, sweetheart. " his low, gruff voice calls out to you once you're through the doorway.

you merely nod in response, starting to shrug off all your clothes. the day was long, the week was long. all you crave is to lay in his arms.

Logan had heard the sluggish edge to your movements the moment you came through the front door, already knowing it had been a hard day. " c'mere, honey. " he waves you over, setting his book aside on the nightstand.

your whole figure is tense as you move. Logan pulls the duvet back enough for you to slide under and move up against him. he pulls the duvet up and around your bare figure, his strong arm wrapping around your waist as he moves your body to lay on top of him. " here we go, don't that feel better? "

you nod against his hairy and scarred chest, your face scrunching up with the safety that emanates from his firm and strong figure.

" hey, let it go, darlin'. you're away from it right now, let it all go, " he assures, his rough, calloused hand rubbing gentle patterns up and down your bare back and waist. " give it all t'me, let me carry this with you. "

and so you do, you let it all go. tears drip down your cheeks and onto his chest as you tell him about the rude coworker who won't stop, your car that broke down for the third time this week, things that keep breaking the moment you lay your hands on them. and Logan listens to it all, not once interrupting you.

his large hands strokes up and down your back lovingly, " i think it's time to look for another job, honey, " you know he's right, but finding decent jobs nowadays seems nearly impossible. " i know it'll be hard, but it'll be less hard than the time they're givin' you at this job. " he replies, as if he read your mind.

you nod, sniffling. he listens as you go on about how you can't seem to do anything creatively anymore, how you keep messing up meals you cook, how your clothes don't feel right anymore. and all he does is hold you tightly and listen.

" let's take some time off, yeah? i think gettin' away would do you a world of good. " you hum, the thought of staying at his cabin in the woods would do you a lot of good. " tell you what, sweet girl, " he presses a kiss to the top of your head. " i'll deal with your work, and you start packin' t'morrow. how's that sound? "

you smile sadly and nod, your wet cheek rubbing against his tear-wet chest. " that sounds good. " you croak, your voice a little rough.

he smiles, his beard gently scratching against your forehead. " then that's what we'll do. " he presses another kiss to your hair, before reaching over to tug on the string of the lamp and turning the lamp off. " don't you worry your pretty little head about a thing, alright? i'll take care of you, baby. i'll take care of you. "

[golden1u5t]

not so sneaky after all | a.h x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: smut

ꨄ summary: a quickie in aaron’s office leads to the discovery of your relationship.

You moaned out Aaron's name softly as he thrust into you from behind, he held your head down on his desk as he fucked you in his office. You were on the edge of falling apart under him when there was a knock on the door. Aaron yelled that he would be with them in a minute, he really just needed to make you cum first.

Aaron yanked on your hair harder with one hand and covered your mouth with the other, he could feel your cunt pulsing around his cock as you came. As soon as you came down he pulled out of you and quickly cleaned up and made himself more presentable.

"I'm gonna try to distract them while you fix yourself up, try to sneak out of here as quietly as possible." He placed a kiss to your lips before walking out of his office.

You did what he said and tried to sneak out as quietly as possible but the loud sound of Aaron's office closing alerted the team. You refused to turn around because you could feel all of their eyes on you, you laid your head against the door and groaned. The sound of Derek's laugh forced you turn around and take the walk of shame back to your desk.

"I can't believe it!" He clutched his stomach in a fit of laughter but you and Aaron didn't find it the slightest bit of funny. Pretty soon, more of them started to chuckle.

"I can." Spencer interjected, he looked up from his book and looked at you before going back to reading. "They've been sneaking around for months and none of you have caught on. Makes me question if you're fit for this job."

"Wait- you knew?" Jj turned to him with a look of betrayal. You couldn't believe he knew all this time and didn't mention it, you were slightly grateful for it.

"Yup. You guys really didn't notice the pattern? It would start when Hotch would announce he's shutting his door for a few and then exactly 4 minutes and 48 seconds later Y/N announced that she needed to ask him a question, she would come back after 40 minutes and 11 seconds. I noticed it again with how long their conversations on the jet with each other were, Y/N typically only holds a conversation with someone for-"

"Okay! That's enough, Reid." Hotch stopped him, he couldn't take hearing Spencer break down how he figured out you and hotch were sneaking around.

"You know the average time I hold a conversation?"

[vanteguccir]

you do not know how bad i need either tooth rotting fluff or sunshine x grumpie of matt from you🤯 the last time you wrote one of my requests i literally went feral for it… i will literally give you a kiss and call you mommy😘😘 PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

- sincerely,

matti.

then you can start calling me mommy bc here it goes your sunshine x grumpy 🤭😚

── ୨୧ !　a small blurb with grumpy!matt who has a soft spot for you

　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x sunshine!reader

The house was quiet, save for the hum of the air conditioner in the living room, a soft symphony to the lazy Sunday afternoon. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting gentle stripes on the hardwood floor, adding to the cozy atmosphere. Y/N hummed a cheerful tune as she flitted around the living room, picking up scattered dishes and fluffing the pillows on the couch.

Matt was sprawled on the sofa, pretending to watch whatever it was that the television was showing, arms crossed, his usual grumpy expression firmly in place. His tousled hair and the slight pout on his lips made him look even more endearing, though he would vehemently deny it. He watched Y/N with a mixture of amusement and impatience, his eyes tracking her every movement.

"You gonna lay with me already or not?" Matt grumbled, his voice low and gravelly. He rolled his eyes dramatically, trying to maintain his tough exterior. Y/N turned to him, a bright smile spreading across her face, and her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Matt, you don't have to ask so nicely." She teased, setting down the book she had left at the kitchen table in the day before. She crossed the room in a few light steps and plopped down beside him, her warmth instantly seeping into his side.

Matt huffed, trying to appear annoyed, but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer until her head rested on his chest.

"Yeah, well, you took long enough." He muttered, but his voice softened as he buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her familiar scent.

Y/N snuggled into him, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest.

"You love cuddles, you big baby." She said with a knowing smile, her voice a gentle murmur.

"Whatever." Matt replied, his tone gruff. "It's not like it's the highlight of my day or anything." But even as he spoke, he tightened his grip on her, holding her as if she might slip away.

She giggled, her laughter a sweet melody that always managed to soothe his grumpy demeanor.

"You know, you can drop the macho act. I know you're just a big marshmallow."

Matt scoffed, but the sound lacked conviction.

"Sure, sure. Just don't go telling anyone, okay?" His fingers began to play with her hair absentmindedly, a small smile finally breaking through his facade.

They lay there in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being their breathing and the occasional rustle of fabric as they shifted. Y/N could feel the steady beat of Matt's heart under her ear, a reassuring rhythm that lulled her into a state of contentment.

After a few moments, she shifted slightly, preparing to get up, her stomach begging for some snack. But as soon as she moved, Matt's grip tightened around her.

"Hey! The hell are you goin'?" He demanded, his voice rising a notch.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide with amusement and surprise.

"I was just going to get something for us to eat, baby."

"No, you're not." Matt said stubbornly. "You're staying right here."

She chuckled, pressing a kiss to his chest.

"Alright, alright. I'm not going anywhere."

"Good." He mumbled, his grumpy facade slipping away entirely. He nestled his chin on top of her head, closing his eyes as he allowed himself to relax completely in her embrace.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection. Matt might be grumpy on the outside, but she knew the truth. He was her big, cuddly marshmallow, and she wouldn't have him any other way.

[fiendishfables]

[ Lucifer Morningstar x Reader! ]

based on this post

"Please, please, oh fuck-"

The pitiful pleads and moans of your boyfriend were the only sounds filling the room as you rode him. He may have been a King, but right now he sounded more like a bitch than anything else.

His beautiful, pale blonde hair was disheveled, sticking up in various places. His violet colored eyelids were drooped so low on his eyes you'd think he was asleep. The small expanse that was his chest rose and fell in erratic patterns, heartbeat hammering behind his ribs. A light sheen of sweat covered his naked, pale body. He was completely and utterly fucked out at this point.

The sight made you smirk proudly, sticking true to your agonizingly slow pace in a means to torture him.

Lucifer had been talking big all evening; going on and on about he was the best you'd ever have when it came to your sex life; how he could make you cum in just a couple minutes without breaking a sweat; the ways he could get you flustered just from cracking a few charming jokes.

He had been entirely too cocky, which is how the both of you ended up in your current position; you seated on his cock, riding him, with him beneath you, whining like a loyal subordinate rather than a King.

"Okay- okay, I'm sorry! Please-" His desperate whine of a voice came through your thoughts, dispersing them as he had started to squirm underneath you. The slow pace you had chosen to ride him at was not at all ideal, nor was it something he was used to.

You regained focus, peering down at your wreck of a boyfriend and smiled, filled with both traces of affection and triumph.

"Please what, Luci?" You cooed softly, hands planted firmly on his chest, making sure to keep that slow rise and fall of your hips steady. You swore he almost pouted at that.

"Please, just- please! I-I'll be good, I promise!" He panted, sharp teeth glistening with the amount of saliva he had been able to produce within the past half-hour. When you did nothing but raise a skeptical eyebrow at him, he practically exploded.

"Fuck! Just l-let me cum, please! I-I can't take this! I need it, I-" He cried out, his whole heart seemingly going into this confession of need and desire.

His pleas were coming out in ragged breaths now, giving way to the true desperation surging through his mind and body. Visible traces of previous and newly shed tears adorned his cheeks, making him all the more pretty in your eyes.

In response to his small outburst of sexual frustration, you just smiled softly down at him, allowing yourself to finally deflate your ego and up your movements, giving him what he so desperately craved. His loud, pornographic moan as a result of the sudden change was enough to have you clenching around him. It was worth it every time.

"Ohh, fuck- oh, honey, thank you. Fuck, fuck. Damn it, you feel fucking amazing; so perfectly made for this cock. T-too good f'me. Fuck, I-Im gonna cum, you're gonna make me cum, oh fuck, yes, yes, yes-!"

[authorhjk1]

Hello! Been loving your previous and current works and enjoyed reading them, plus this new idea of yours is kinda intriguing. I have yet to see someone make a masterpiece of Seulgi in this iconic outfit. I wish you all the best and stay safe.

Dark Red

(Kang Seulgi X Male Reader)

You both knew that one would eventually falter. While Irene placed her bet on Joy, you expected Yeri to be the first one.

But to your surprise it is Seulgi, who is know standing in front of your door. Her whole body is covered by a long brown coat. You can see the light flush of her cheeks and the slight smell of alcohol invades your nostrils. Seulgi has definitely been drinking.

"What do you mean by 'me too'?"

You pretend to be slow in catching on, wanting to hear the words from Seulgi herself.

"I-I I can't... It's just been so long since I've been with someone."

She looks up at you, her big eyes tempting you to give her a comforting hug.

"I can't keep watching the two of you."

"Well, if that makes you uncomfortable, we can always stop-"

"No!"

The color of her cheeks turns even darker in embarrassment.

"It-It did help me a little. Some material for... You know?"

"Seulgi, I don't know if I should have a conversation with you about these kind of things. You are my girlfriend's friend."

"I-I know."

Seulgi glances at her feet, a defeated look on her face.

"M-Maybe you c-could help me out this one time?"

You can tell that Seulgi is trying to gather all of her confidence. And you know it must be hard for her to ask her friend's boyfriend to cheat on her. But she seems to be really desperate.

And it's not like you are gonna cheat. Why would Seulgi think that Irene wouldn't like you to fuck her friends? She already makes them watch, when you fuck her. Irene made it very clear to you that, if this exact situation occurs, you can do whatever you want.

"I don't know, Seulgi."

You still pretend to be innocent, wanting to see how far she would go. Seulgi is unaware of Irene's kinks. So in her mind, she is actually asking you to cheat on her leader.

"I can make it worth your while, you know?"

She seems to have mustered all of her courage now.

You watch as she slowly starts to unbutton her coat. It reveals a short red dress with all sorts of different patterns. It seems like it's made out of red strings and dark flowers, which are attached to some fabric underneath.

You know for a fact that Seulgi has way more seductive outfits than this one. But she probably didn't plan on asking you for sex, when she put it on and left the house. Wait, what exactly is she asking for? She answers your question by herself.

"After I had to watch you so often, I now need the same. I want to feel it."

Seulgi steps closer. You are still very aware that you're standing in the doorframe as she wraps her arms around your neck.

"I want to know what it feels like."

She gets on her tiptoes and whispers into your ear.

"To get used."

Every man's patience has a limit. And your are no exception. Of course you could toy with her a little longer, but where would be the point?

"Get in."

You try to look as guilty as possible, hoping to keep up the act of you, cheating on Irene. Already planing on revealing it to Seulgi in the future, you walk after her. Maybe while you fuck her hard over the kitchen counter in their dorm and Irene walks in? You would love to see Seulgi's face in that moment.

She is now looking around your living room.

"You have a really nice h-"

"No talking."

You spin her around, pressing your lips on hers.

Seulgi immediately whimpers as she finally feels you touching her. Her tongue starts to invade your mouth, trying to fight yours. As she deepens the kiss, you bend your knee a little, forcing it forward, right between her thighs.

A moan escapes her mouth as you push upwards. Even without orders, Seulgi starts rubbing herself on your knee. After only a couple of moments, you feel something wet form on your jeans. You break the kiss off, pushing Seulgi off of you.

"You really are needy."

She gives you a pleading look as she nods.

"Just do with me what you want. I just need to feel you."

You reach forward, grabbing both her arms with your hands and pull her towards you again. Seulgi stumbles forward. You catch her by grabbing her naked thighs. Lifting her up, her face is now right above yours. She instinctively captures your lips with hers again. Your hands glide along her thighs as you marvel at their fullness. Hundreds of hours of dancing. All packed into these thighs of hers.

A couple of steps forward and you push Seulgi against your wall.

"Le me feel how tight your pussy is."

Seulgi gasps at your words, feeling how your hand reaches underneath her dress. No panties. They're probably stuffed into her coat. Dipping a finger inside, you hear her moan loudly.

"Damn, Seulgi. You must be way tighter than her."

You want to make Seulgi feel guilty for making you "cheat" by mentioning Irene.

Seulgi's eyes drip with lust as she bites her lip. She herself can't tell how she got herself in this kind of situation. What a bad friend she is! A bad bandmate! A bad person!

And yet, as you quickly open your pants with your free hand, Seulgi can only drool for your cock.

You don't even give her enough time to take a good look at it. It disappears underneath her dress as you take both her butt cheeks into your hands.

"Oh, god!"

Seulgi lets out a loud moan as you penetrate her. Her head falls back against the wall as you pull her onto your cock.

"Y-You are way bigger than-than I thought."

She manages to say during her up and downs as you move her body along your shaft.

"And you really are tight, Seulgi."

You start to complement her whole body while you nail her against the wall. Like an expensive painting, you admire her beauty.

"Oh, yes! Please!"

Seulgi definitely went too long without any intimacy. It only takes her a couple of seconds more and she quickly cums on your cock. Her pussy clamps down on you as you keep lifting her body up and down.

"I-I need your cum! I saw y-you filling her up."

You are aware that Seulgi avoided calling Irene by her name. Kissing her neck, you hold Seulgi in place and start trusting into her from below.

She quickly turns into a stuttering mess, while you mark her neck. It'd be fun to see Seulgi trying to hide it from Irene, despite the older one "not knowing" where it came from.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Seulgi buries her head in your shoulder as she climaxes for a second time. Her pussy feels tighter now. And wetter. You feel her juices drip down your cock as you chase your own high.

Her back rubs against the wall as you keep pounding into her from underneath. Her nails start to scratch at your back as Seulgi tries to let go of the pleasure, which is overwhelming her.

"Fuck, Seulgi."

With your final thrust upwards, you simultaneously pull her down.

"Holy-!"

Seulgi's cry is interrupted by a gasp as she feels your cum flooding her insides. Her pussy is filled within a matter of seconds. Your warm cum starts to leak out of your connection, slowly dripping onto the floor.

"That was..."

Seulgi's heavy breathing stops her from finishing her sentence. You wonder if the fact that you are "cheating" is getting Seulgi off.

----------

Hi, everyone!

Hope you liked this one. I honestly did go over the limit by a couple of minutes, because I wasn't finished, since the intro got longer than I expected. But that's not a big problem, gonna try to keep it a little shorter from now on.

Stay healthy!

[linopls]

kinktober day nine

oral chan x fem!reader summary: you're chan's favorite inspiration warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, oral (fem receiving), blond chan (it needs a warning) 0.8k words

“hey, can i eat you out?”

“what?” 

you and chan had been sitting silently in his studio. he had his headphones on and was working on a song for their next comeback and you were sat on the couch behind him, working on a project for one of your classes. you’d both been sat in complete silence for the past three hours, both working in a stress-free environment, which was rare.

“what did you say?” you ask again.

“you heard me.” chan takes off his headphones and swivels around in his chair to face you. “i have been stuck for the past fifteen minutes and i need some inspiration.”

you laugh, “does eating me out give you inspiration?”

“maybe,” chan shrugs as he stands up from his chair and picks your laptop up off your lap and places it gently on his desk. “your moans are like music to my ears, and i need to listen to something else than what have been.”

“are you writing another ‘drive’?” you joke and chan laughs. you sit up and move to the edge of the couch where chan meets. he stands between your legs and lifts your chin to look him in the face.

“i might after this,” chan says before pushing his lips against yours. his lips are soft and taste sweet. he quickly starts to kiss down your jawline and to your exposed collarbone.

“i love when you wear my clothes,” he mumbles between kisses. it was raining when you arrived to the studio, which left you freezing and wet. chan, being the kind boyfriend he was, gave you the sweatshirt he was wearing.

 he kneels in front of your and puts his hands on your thighs, softly squeezing them. he softly bites down on your collarbone until he leaves a small bruise on the spot, he pulls away and admires the mark.

“so pretty.” he then looks you in the eyes, his soft brown eyes full of lust. “god, you’re so pretty, can i please eat you out now?” he begs.

the way he begs to pleasure you sends a warm feeling to your core. one of your favorite things about chan was that his love language was acts of service. while normally this meant he would do chores for you, hold doors for you, and make appointments for you. it also meant that he would always pleasure you first, usually several times, before himself. many days he would beg to eat you out, today, when you should be working, was no different.

you giggle. “of course.”

“thank you,” he sighs, quickly hooking his fingers under your waist band. you lift your hips off the couch to assist him and he pulls off your sweatpants in one swift motion.

like a starved animal, he quickly pulls your legs apart and licks one long stripe up your core. “god, you taste so fucking good,” he moans to himself. 

chan starts lapping at your core. he rotates between tracing circles and sucking on your clit and sliding his tongue as deep in your hole as he can. he then decides he needs to be even closer and wraps his muscled arms around your thighs and pulls your body to his face. this knocks you flat on the couch and you moan in response. he continues to work on your clit, flicking his tongue against the sensitive bud.

“chan, fuck, please don’t stop,” you moan, tangling your hands into his blond hair. 

your words of encouragement have him sticking to the pattern of flicking his tongue at your clit and swirling small circles over it. he moans and hums as he sloppily makes out with your cunt.

“chan, please, please, please keep going. i’m gonna cum,” you whine, hips squirming in his strong grip.

without breaking contact with your cunt, chan looks up at you. the look in his innocent eyes sends you over the edge. 

“fuck i’m cumming,” you yell. you tighten your grip in his hair and press your leaking cunt against his face, moaning his name loudly as you finish. chan slows his pace, helping work you through your orgasm.

as you release the grip on his hair, chan sits up fully. you notice how blown out his eyes look, his blond, curly hair a mess atop his head, and your glistening slick coating his face. he makes direct eye contact with you as he licks his lips clean and wipes his mouth with his arm. your eyes roll back and your head falls back onto the couch. 

chan stands up with your pants in his hands, he folds them nicely before putting them on one of the side tables. he places a kiss to your forehead and picks up your body to lay you the proper way on the couch. he then grabs the blanket from the back of the couch and lays it over your body.

“but babe, what about you-?” you start, propping yourself on your elbows.

“let me finish this song,” he says, sitting back down in his chair and putting his headphones on. “i got my inspiration.”

i need chan to be blond again for my own mental health

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